Page 1 of A Dash of You

One

The road is endless, stretching out into the dark of nothingness, with only scattered streetlights here and there. The shine blankets over my questionable 2001 Honda Accord. In the previous owner's exact words, ‘she runs better than any brand-new car today.’ Obviously, the guy was lying, but I knew as much. I’m not the naïve woman he took me for, but Iwasdesperate enough needing to get from point A to point B. However, as this, better than any new car, shakes violently and the bright yellow tire light annoyingly flashes on the dashboard, I am regretting not telling him to shove this car so far up his ass it wasn’t even funny.

This cannot be happening. I’m so close—too close for it to just be over.

As the vibration grows worse, I focus on a good place to pull over. Isolated, I choose the small roadside shoulder, then park.

That bad luck hovering over me can take a hike any day now.

The taste of freedom is teasing the tip of my tongue like a delicious dessert. But here I am with a heavy burden weighing me down once more.

And it’s this damn car.

With my heart in my throat, and my stomach throwing me the worst case of jitters, tears threaten my eyes. I push them back with a tight blink and harsh swallow because weakness is not an option I can afford right now.

But who says I can’t wallow in self-pity?

This might be the stupidest, most spontaneous, most reckless idea I’ve ever come up with. Or… the smartest. I’m notsure which one. Was mustering up the courage I needed to bolt and actually executing the plan the right choice? Because the thought of always having to hide or be on the run is just as terrifying. The idea of living with such a great unknown is an entirely new and dangerous level of anxiety.

I blow out a heavy breath, double checking the time. It’s 1 AM, and I’m alone, without a clue on what to do next.

Oh, right, assess the reason for my breakdown. I turn off the car and step out with a quick shiver as I inspect the flat tire in the night air. The chill runs along my bare arms and legs.

How hard can changing a tire be? Extremely. Considering I don’t know the first thing about it. Sure, you need a jack, one of those X looking wrenches for getting the bolts loose, and the star of the show… an actual spare. What are the chances this thing had one of those? This is what my father should have been teaching me instead of giving me baking lessons. Whipping up a fabulous peach cobbler will not help me in this situation. I can’t bake my way out of this.

I’ll just have to call a tow truck. No big deal.

Getting back in and locking my doors, I search for the nearest towing place and tap call. It rings a few times before a gruff, deep voice sounds on the other line.

“Yeah?” His annoyed, bitter tone is obvious. To be fair, itisthe middle of the night.

“Hi,” I sternly add, letting him know he’s being rude. “I need help. With my car.” My voice cracks, getting straight to the point, but trying to manage the adrenaline rush while staying composed is challenging.

Mr. Grouch clears his throat. “I’d assume that’s why you called. Your location?”

My head tilts away from my phone, irritation setting in.

Dick.

“Well…” As I take a second to observe around for any signs, I come up empty-handed. I relied on the GPS, concentrating only on the possibility of being followed.

Oh wait.The GPS. Duh. But before I can check it, hopefully giving him something like a street name, he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Pin your location and send it to me,” he demands, the sound of ruffling and clatter fills the background over his end.

Wait, a minute. What if this guy isn’t legit, and I just called a random person? What if he’s out scamming people and I’m about to meet my undesired fate? Pinning my location sounds odd or not, because he obviously needs to know where to find me.

“Are you a serial killer?” I blurt out.

The ruffling and clattering noises pause. “What?”

“You know. A murderer. Rapist. Someone who wants to rob me blind for everything I own.” He wouldn’t want my car, and I have little money right now, but the other options are still on the table.

“You’re asking if I want your location so I can murder you. You did call me, remember?” He has me there.

“Fine. Sending it now.”

There’s a moment of silence as I text him.

---